Page 45 of Four More The Merrier

22

QUINN

My heart races as we walk down the hotel corridor, Beau's warm presence close behind me. The card key trembles slightly in my hand as I slide it through the reader.

"You sure about this?" Beau's deep voice sends a shiver down my spine.

I turn to face him, my back against the door. "I haven't been sure about anything since I left Nashville. But this? This feels right."

His large frame fills the doorway as we step inside. The dim light from the bedside lamp casts shadows across his face, making his eyes seem darker, more intense.

"Quinn..." He reaches out, his calloused fingers brushing my cheek. "You're shaking."

"Good observation, Sherlock." I try for humor, but my voice comes out breathy. "Maybe you could do something about that?"

A smile tugs at his beard. "I could think of a few things."

"Less thinking, more doing." I grab his pearl snap shirt, pulling him closer.

His lips meet mine, gentle at first, then with growing intensity. My fingers work at his shirt buttons while his hands tangle in my hair. Each touch sends electricity coursing through me.

The reality of our situation suddenly crashes through my bliss like a bucket of ice water. I pull back, my lips still tingling from his kiss. "Wait, Beau. What about Jarron and Austen? They already hate me. If they find out about this..."

"They don't hate you." His thumb traces my jawline. "Not anymore. But even if they did?—"

"They'll think I'm trying to sleep my way into the band or something equally awful." My hands drop from his chest. "You know how the industry works. How rumors spread."

Beau's deep chuckle rumbles through his chest. "Darlin', what happens between us is nobody's business but ours." He takes off his baseball cap, running fingers through his hair. "Besides, those two idiots are probably passed out in some bar right now, not giving a damn about what we're doing."

"But—"

"No buts." He cups my face in his hands. "Quinn, I've watched you fight tooth and nail for respect in this industry. Hell, you earned mine the moment you stood up to Jarron that first day. This isn't about the band, or the tour, or any of that noise. This is just us."

The sincerity in his eyes melts my resistance. "Just us?"

"Just us." He presses his forehead against mine. "What they don't know won't hurt them. And what they think?" He shrugs. "Well, that stopped being my problem somewhere around the time you walked into that first meeting."

I can't help but laugh. "Smooth talker."

"Only when it matters." His beard tickles my neck as he leans in close. "Now, where were we?"

Beau's eyes scan my face, his fingers tracing the curve of my cheek. "You know you're beautiful, right?"

I swallow hard, trying to keep my composure as I start unbuttoning his pearl snap shirt. "I think you might be biased."

"Not a chance," he murmurs, helping me slide the shirt off his broad shoulders. His hands move to the hem of my sweater dress, pulling it up and over my head in one smooth motion.

I kick off my boots and peel down my leggings, feeling a rush of cool air against my skin. Standing there in just my light blue lace bra and panties, I catch Beau's eyes widen in appreciation.

"Damn, Quinn," he says, voice thick with admiration. "You're... mesmerizing."

A flush creeps up my neck as I reach out to touch his chest. His muscles are solid beneath my fingers, each contour defined. "I didn't know you were hiding all this under those shirts."

He chuckles, low and deep. "I hope you say the same thing about other things I'm hiding."

I laugh, shaking my head. "Always the charmer."

"Only when it matters." He steps closer, wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me against him. The heat of his body is intoxicating, a stark contrast to the cool air of the room.

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